by Lynda Aicher
He flicked on the light switch to illuminate the room in the pale yellow glow from the single bulb. The light didn’t reach the depths of the corners, but he didn’t need it to see the nothing that was there.
He’d stripped the room of everything—tables and benches, bed and cabinets, chains, ropes and straps. Every hook and bolt had been yanked from the walls, ceiling and floor, the holes left as gaping wounds to the suffering of the room.
Each step he took was a deliberate clip of his shoes on the tile floor. The simple, backless barstool was the only piece of furniture that remained. Positioned just out of the brightest circle of the light, it beckoned him like the scotch.
He lowered himself to the stool with a sense of rightness. Back straight, chin raised, feet braced on the floor, he folded his fingers together and stared past the light to the shadowed darkness that trapped him.
The past that refused to let him go.
*
The truck careened through the intersection. It clipped Liv’s bumper, sending her old car, Bessie, into a spin that went on and on and on before it crashed into another car. The bending of metal boomed in her ears. Glass shattered to pebble her with knife pricks of pain.
There were shouts, ones she couldn’t decipher through the ringing in her ears. Her heart was going too fast, the beat a panic of the unknown. Smoke rolled from the bent hood, obstructing her view.
A moan rolled through the small space. Hers? No. Someone was with her.
She tipped her head to the right to stare into the bloodied, blank face of Noah. Eyes opened but unseeing, blood dribbling from the corner of his open mouth.
The scream tore up her throat but no sound came out. She tried to scramble back but there was no place to go. She had to escape. There was too much blood. She had to do something for him. She screamed for help, louder and louder, but the sound wasn’t coming out.
The garbled rumble of her inarticulate cry startled Liv from the nightmare. She shot up, pulse racing, scrambling to free herself. She scratched at her chest only to realize there was nothing there. Her panic slowed, but her heart continued to hammer.
Her palm absorbed the rapid pounding where she pressed it to her chest as she scanned the room. The bedside lamp was on, showing the known decor of Noah’s bedroom.
Another awful dream. She sucked in a breath and caught that lingering tinge of gas and blood.
Would she ever forget it?
She lifted her hair off her neck to cool the dampness that left her skin clammy and her T-shirt soaked in sweat. The edge of a book poked out from beneath the covers. She’d been reading as she’d waited for Noah to get home.
A glance at the clock showed it was two in the morning. Was he home? In his office, working or avoiding her? Either was possible after the stunt she’d pulled tonight.
The floor was refreshingly cold on her bare feet. She shivered as she scrambled through Noah’s drawer to find a new T-shirt.
The routine was almost a ritual now. New shirt, splash of water on her face, drink of water to clear her parched throat, all completed before she slipped out of the room to hunt for Noah.
She tucked her hair behind her ears, wrapped her arms around herself and crept down the stairs. She was surprised to find his office empty, yet the folders on his desk and the full glass of liquor on the built-in bar said he’d been there recently.
A check of the kitchen turned up empty. Nothing had changed since she’d dropped the bag of dirty containers on the counter, too tired to clean them. She was exiting the kitchen when the open basement door caught her eye. A light glowed dimly from its depths, something she knew she hadn’t left on.
She didn’t even hesitate to investigate. To her knowledge, Noah didn’t go in his basement very much. Completely finished, it was a nice if unused space. She’d probably made more trips into its depths to do laundry over the last weeks than he’d made in the past year.
Laundry service? Who used that?
The stairs creaked her approach like old houses seemed to. She found it comforting in a lived-in way. Something that was absent from so much of Noah’s place.
She stepped into the darkened entertainment area, her eyes skimming past it to focus on the light that came from the one room she’d never been in. The door had been locked when her curiosity had her checking, especially after the reveal of V’s basement secret. Directly across from the laundry room, it wasn’t like she’d been down there snooping. Not really.
Was this Noah’s playroom, like she suspected?
The carpet was soft under her feet, her footsteps mute as she approached. The silence was almost creepy and had her hugging herself harder. She tiptoed the last few steps to the open doorway and peeked in. At first she saw nothing but empty space shadowed in darkness that the single light didn’t penetrate. She hesitated then pushed the door open farther.
“Noah?” she called, suddenly questioning the wisdom of her solo journey into the dark basement. Say hello to every girl in the horror flicks who was too stupid to live.
The door hinges squeaked as it swung open and added to the sense of foreboding that sent a tremble through her limbs. Her inhalation was sharp and audible when she finally got a view of the rest of the room.
“Noah?” Gone was the fear, replaced by confusion and concern. “What are you doing?”
He sat at the edge of the light, perfectly straight on a simple barstool, staring into the darkened end of the room. He did nothing to acknowledge her. She squinted into the gloom but couldn’t make out what he was so focused on.
The cold tile met her soles as she stepped into the room. A cautious glance around showed absolutely nothing. As far as she could tell, the room was completely empty except for the stool and Noah.
She crept toward him on cautious feet, afraid to startle him. She was used to his remoteness, but he sat there like he was made of stone. Only an occasional blink proved he was alive.
“Noah,” she said again, a hand poised to rest on his arm. She didn’t know if she should touch him though. After another moment of silence, she gently laid her palm to his bicep. There wasn’t even a flinch at her touch. “What’s wrong?”
It was another silent moment before she moved in front of him. Apprehension knotted her stomach into a tight bundle that seemed to clamp around her chest. Still nothing. His gaze drilled into her neck, not that he was seeing it. She drew in a breath and dared to cup his jaw, slowly leveling it up. He didn’t resist like she’d feared he would.
When his eyes finally met hers, the dark coldness in them shot a bolt of fear through her heart. What had done this to him? Who?
This couldn’t be a result of her going to the club, could it?
“What is it?” Her question was again unanswered and she was at a loss for what else to say. So instead she touched.
She stroked her fingers down the line of his jaw, savoring the abrasive rub of his beard, over his chin, upward to finally brush the curl from his forehead. She kept it up, tracing the arch of his brows, the arc of each cheekbone, the curve of his lips, repeating the path until the focus finally came back into his eyes.
It was slow. A blink, followed by another, before recognition seemed to follow. His brows dipped, and she almost wept with relief. She didn’t though. Somehow she held it in and focused on him. Her hands trembled as the tight coil of fear that’d wound around her heart sprung free.
He was warm, proving he wasn’t carved out of stone, and she pressed a kiss to the wrinkle between his brows. It was so good to see, that slight mark that showed an emotion.
The air hissed with his inhale when her lips touched his skin. She held them there, his warmth seeping into her. She blinked back tears and pressed another kiss to one brow then the other, light confirmations that she was there for him.
She continued her affirmations, hoping they reached him, slow kisses wherever she could reach. His temple, back to that crease that still remained, down to his cheek, jaw and finally she hovered over his lips, their b
reath mingling in soft gusts.
At last, she slid her hand down to cover his heart, where it beat rapid and hard into her palm.
“I’m here,” she whispered.
His lips were soft when she pressed hers to them, warm even if not inviting, yet it didn’t deter her. She kept up her gentle touches, pecks of reassurance, reminders of her, them, the present, until his lips finally parted.
She had no idea how long she stood there, touching, kissing and trying every way she knew how to bring him back. He’d been so far away when she’d found him, it tore at her heart to imagine the level of pain that would cause that.
She teased her tongue along his lips, traced the contour, absorbed the texture and taste. Salt mixed with smoky sweet. His heart continued to beat solid and firm against her palm, each thump a cry for help she wanted to answer. It was trapped in there, his heart and the love he had to give. She got that now. Saw it so clearly it shattered the dreams that had formed of a them.
But this wasn’t about her.
She sealed up her own wounds and slid into the wet heat of his mouth. His lips parted farther, letting her in, accepting what she was giving. Her hand clenched around the material of his shirt; their tongues played and his response sent her heart soaring.
A groan rumbled deep in his chest, rough and low. It had her hands trembling even more. She couldn’t pinpoint her reaction or why she was shaking so badly. Fear, relief, worry, sorrow—they all churned within her.
She jumped at his first touch. His hand on her hip, light at first, almost hesitant. He tilted his head, tongue reaching out to circle her lips in a slow return of affection. Relief so pure and full sent the tears tumbling from her eyes.
The kiss grew more fervent, his hold turning firm. He tugged her closer when there was no place for her to go. Her knees bumped the stool, and his legs opened wider to surround her. Blood roared in her ears to counter the gut-wrenching silence that encased the room. It was a horrible space. A place that brought this much misery to anyone shouldn’t be allowed.
He cupped her cheek and pushed forward until her back bowed and he caught her weight with his other arm.
“Beth.”
His whispered plea took a second to register. Another second to sink in. A last one to nail her heart with final understanding. The sense of loss was devastating as it tore through her.
She jerked back, vision blurred by tears and hurt.
His eyes flew open, shock followed by recognition, then remorse flashed like lightning in his eyes. He sat back, his hold slacking before he yanked her to his chest. “My God.” He clutched at her back, her hair, holding her so tightly she couldn’t breathe. Or maybe she just couldn’t breathe through her own pain. “I’m so sorry.” His whisper flushed hot on her neck, his kisses flames on her skin. “I… I… Fuck. I’m sorry.”
She managed to nod, somehow understanding when she wanted to yell. This really wasn’t about her, was it?
“Liv.” Her name was a tortured croak of shame and suffering. “What have I done? I can’t…”
This was a Noah she’d never seen. A man who’d somehow hit rock bottom and was scrambling to hang on. So she clung to him and let him know he wasn’t alone, even though her own heart ached with every word she spoke.
“It’s okay. Don’t… It’s okay.”
“But it’s not,” he insisted, his lips forming each word over the juncture of her neck. The light tease of sensation sent a rush of tingles to her breast and farther when she didn’t want it to.
Her love for him formed so solid and clear right then she almost sobbed. There was so much more to this man than the cold shell he presented. So much he hid and pain he harbored from everyone. Everyone but her. He trusted her with this, and that somehow meant more than words of love or professions of undying commitment.
She wiped the wetness from her cheeks and pressed a kiss to his temple as she collected herself. “It is. I understand,” she reassured. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but I understand you’re in pain. Let me help.” Another kiss was pressed to his cheek before she leaned back to see his eyes. “Please.”
Please let me in. Her silent plea was as much for him as her. He needed someone to confide in. Someone he could trust with his burden. She could be that person for him, if nothing else.
In that moment, his eyes were open windows to his soul, and the vivid pain she saw had her clutching him closer.
“How are you still here with me?” There was wonder in his voice, mystery in his lifted brows.
“Where else would I be?” She kissed his unmoving lips and found her strength from the source she’d seemed to pull so frequently from of late. Him. She would be strong for him.
“Far from me.” He swiveled his head in a slow move of incomprehension. “I’ll only hurt you.”
“No,” she insisted. “You won’t. Not on purpose. That’s not in you—I know that.”
“How?” He searched her face, his voice cracking. “There’s so much you don’t know about me.”
“Then tell me. I want to help.” She tried not to beg. “Don’t you know how much I care about you?”
He sniffed and looked away, his expression desolate. “Then you should hear it all before you care anymore.”
“Okay.” That was a start. She went to step back, but he wouldn’t release her, so she wrapped her arms around him and tried to convey everything her words weren’t saying.
She loved him. It was fast and crazy and intense and more than she would’ve ever let herself feel for any one person. But he’d snuck up on her when she’d been distracted by all of the other stuff going on. And now, she was almost positive she was going to lose him, even if he didn’t want to be lost.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Noah stared at the room beyond Liv. It was impossible not to look at the emptiness. That space that held him trapped in a past he couldn’t seem to escape.
“It’s just a room.” He tried to convince himself of that to no avail. His voice was too tight for even him to believe. Hell, his actions already mocked the words as a petty lie.
“No,” she said, leaning back to intercept his view. She forced his head to turn until he met her eyes. “I’m guessing it was a playroom.” The statement was soft, the words rock hard.
He almost fell back at the sucker punch. It ripped the wind from him in a rush of pure shame that went deep. Pain radiated out of his chest in waves of regret. “How do you know that?” His snarl had the question coming out as an accusation when she didn’t deserve it.
He expected her wrath, hoped for it in some ways, but there was only understanding in her eyes. “V showed me hers. I’m making an educated guess.”
Wasn’t this what he wanted and had been too chicken to follow through on when he’d come home? He’d been ready to tell her about Beth, to explain about his past and how he couldn’t be a Dom again. Now it was all so raw. With Liv standing there, tear tracks on her face, it was too much. She was an innocent in this world.
The clamminess turned to a full-blown sweat that beaded on his nape and formed rivers between his shoulder blades. His vision shifted to the image of Beth dangling from the rope strung from one of the damn joist-mounted ceiling hooks. Her face white, lips blue, hair a limp mass of silken gold that draped to the side with the tilt of her head. Her bare toes only inches from the floor behind the toppled chair, so close but unable to reach the tile.
There’d been no claw marks of second thoughts on her neck. No burns on her fingers from grasping the rope. Both had been impossible due to the cuffs that had locked her hands behind her back.
Not quick-release bondage cuffs, but solid lock-and-key metal cuffs that had chafed her delicate wrists when she’d struggled. Involuntarily or not, he’d never know.
He shoved Liv away to stand, plunging his fingers through his hair to hold the strands until they pulled on his scalp. It wasn’t enough though. The sting didn’t distract from the one that pulsed from his guilt.
The pain
engulfed him like it hadn’t since the weeks following her suicide. If he’d only been more aware. Hadn’t demanded so much of her, had known more about her past. If he’d been a better Dom, she’d still be alive.
“Noah?” Liv was next to him, one hand on his shoulder, the other working his fingers free of his hair. “God, Noah. What happened?”
He dropped his hands to his sides, lifted his head and forced his eyes to meet hers. There was only emptiness inside him again. It was how he should be. All the warmth and kindness Liv offered him should be spent on someone else.
With effort, he forced his mouth to say the words that would chase her away forever. “She killed herself.” He took a breath. “I should’ve known. Should’ve stopped her… It’s my fault she’s dead.”
Her mouth dropped open then snapped closed a second later. A frown tugged at her brow as her head slowly swiveled in rejection. “I don’t believe that.” She hadn’t removed her hand and its presence on his shoulder was grounding, like the grip that tightened with her conviction. “You are a lot of things, Noah, but you’re not a mind reader. I know you and I’m positive you did everything you could to help her.”
Why was she still there? She should be running away. Instead she stood there with her chin thrust up in a dare for him to deny her.
He turned his head to the darkened taunt of his past. Beth had never stood up to him. She’d been the complete submissive. Vulnerable, needy and dependent on him for more than he’d anticipated. “Beth might disagree with you.” The haunting words hung in the room like the ghost that remained.
She ran her hand down his arm until she grasped his cold fingers. He still hadn’t looked to her when she gave a tug and started to back away. “Come on. This room isn’t good for you.”
All his life he’d been expected to lead. His scholarly parents had instilled that in him when he’d been a boy. Now it was Liv turning off the light and closing the door before leading him down the hall, away from his hell.
The brown cloth sectional was about ten years out of style, but its lack of use still had it appearing brand new. Liv nudged him until he sat down then shook out a blanket that’d been thrown over the back and wrapped it around herself. She curled her legs under her and nuzzled into the crook of his arm like she belonged there. He was powerless to resist her comfort.
